by Silver James
“I know. I have a lot to think about.”
An uncomfortable silence reared its head again, and the tension made Jolie fidget. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, but wasn’t sure she wanted the answers.
“I should let you go. Tell CJ I love him and sweet dreams when you put him to bed tonight. And...tell him I’ll ask you another time about spending the weekend with me.” Breath hissed softly from between her lips and Cord inhaled. The moment was as intimate as a kiss. “G’night, sunshine.”
The broken connection hummed in her ear before she could respond. Jolie dashed at her eyes, irritated that tears threatened to spill over and drown her cheeks. If she ever succumbed to tears, she’d never stop.
* * *
Cord put down the phone and pushed himself up on the bed. God, but she still turned him on. Just her voice had the ability to twist him into a hot mess of nerves and made him want things he’d walked away from, and probably couldn’t have again. Like her. In his bed. In his life. But the yearning just made him more resolute. He would make them a family.
He swung his legs over and steadied himself on the edge of the mattress. Today with CJ had been a breath of fresh air, but he’d overdone things physically. Eyeing the wheelchair with something akin to hatred, he braced one hand on the sturdy wooden footboard of his bed and eased into a standing position.
So far, so good. He had fifteen steps to the bathroom. Three of those were close to the footboard. After that, he was on his own in uncharted territory. He hadn’t taken a step since the accident without a physical therapist and safety equipment holding him. He hadn’t even tried a walker yet, but talking to Jolie, listening to her breathe into the phone did more than just make him aware of how sexy she was. It made him want to get well, to be the man who had once took her to bed and left her panting and moaning his name against his shoulder.
His talk with Rand Davis had also left him off balance—and wondering what Jolie’s father was up to. Not to mention leaving Cord questioning everything that had happened between him and Jolie for the past ten years.
Leaning heavily on the footboard, he shuffled toward his bathroom. He paused and stared at the door across the open floor. So near yet so far. But he was sick and tired of being an invalid. If he was going to be a real dad to CJ, if he had any chance of winning Jolie back, he had to suck it up.
Agonizing minutes later, sweating like a racehorse after the Kentucky Derby, he leaned on the cool granite counter and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He’d lost weight and muscle tone, and the gray pallor did not blend well with his fading tan. Time to rectify things. From now on, he was standing on his own two feet. Well, with the help of a walker, but not for long. Nope, not for long at all.
An hour later, he entered the kitchen, standing on his own two feet, though pushing the wheeled walker the therapist had sent over. Miz Beth sniffled and waved him to the broad breakfast bar while she hustled up a plate and silverware. Big John moved the walker back out of the way as Cord settled into one of the tall chairs fronting the bar. A few minutes later, Kaden sauntered in and washed up at the kitchen sink.
The three men shuffled food into their mouths with no time for polite conversation between bites. But after dinner, when Miz Beth served warm apple fritters and coffee, Cord broached a new subject with the ranch manager.
“What do you know about therapeutic riding, Kaden?”
The other man shrugged. “Read some stuff. Saw it when I was up at Oklahoma State gettin’ my degree.” Kaden turned to face him, a thoughtful expression knitting his brow and pursing his lips. “You thinkin’ about getting back in the saddle, boss man?”
Cord barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He and his brothers had known almost from the moment Kaden had been hired that he was a Barron, despite his last name being the same as his mother’s—Waite. The Chickasaw half of his heritage explained his tanned skin and black hair, but his eyes—like all the offspring of Cyrus Barron—gave him away. To Cord’s knowledge, Kaden never mentioned his father, and definitely never acknowledged he might be Cyrus Barron’s son. Raised by a mother who’d never married, Kaden kept his own counsel and ran the ranch’s cattle and horse operations like a man with twice his experience.
“Yeah, I am. Maybe teach CJ to ride at the same time.”
Cord caught Kaden’s flickering glance before the man answered, “We can do that.” Kaden took a long drag on the coffee in his cup and swallowed before facing Cord. “You sure seem to be acceptin’ of this situation, Cord.”
“He’s my son, Kaden. I’m not going to turn my back on him.” Or his mother.
Taking another swallow, Kaden stood up. “Mighty fine dinner, Miz Beth. Thank you.” He tipped an invisible hat to Big John before clapping a gentle hand on Cord’s shoulder. “That’s what makes you different, Cordell Barron. It surely does.”
Seven
More nervous than a sinner sitting in the front pew, Cord waited on the porch of the main house. Jolie had agreed to let CJ stay the weekend at the ranch. He’d had almost two weeks to get used to having a son. While he was excited to see CJ, it was the anticipation of seeing Jolie and putting his plan into action that had his nerves twanging. Dinner first, with Jolie staying to eat, and then maybe the three of them watching a movie. To ease any nerves the boy might have about sleeping in a new place. That was Cord’s excuse. It all sounded plausible to him. Surely Jolie was nervous, too, about leaving her son with virtual strangers.
John and Miz Beth had set up the patio for grilling burgers, all within easy walking distance so Cord wouldn’t have to rely on the walker. He’d already mostly abandoned it, but for longer distances. In addition to burgers and hot dogs ready to be slapped on the grill, there was Miz Beth’s famous potato salad. Sweet tea—Jolie’s favorite—and fruit punch. A tub of homemade ice cream in the freezer. All that was lacking in his perfect scenario was Jolie and CJ.
He’d loved Jolie with an unreasonable fervor when they were younger. And he’d been a dreamer. The old man had put a stop to that. Cord shook off that train of thought. He couldn’t go back and change the past. All he could do was work toward the future he wanted. Thoughts of his father filled his chest with cold dread. Thankfully, he was down in Houston looking at an oil refinery to buy. Cord should be there with him, as CEO of BarEx, and would have been but for his accident.
But it was good his father was away. So far, it seemed as if no one had spilled the beans about CJ. That wouldn’t last, and when Cyrus found out, hell would certainly break loose. With luck, Cord’s plan would work and he’d have Jolie and CJ back before the old man could do a thing to stop him.
The cool night wind prickled the hair on his arms. It was just the wind—or so he told himself. Not a premonition about his father.
Cord went back to his strategy for tonight. Maybe he’d opt for s’mores around the patio’s fire pit instead of a movie. His chest tightened, along with his groin, at the thought of snuggling with Jolie on the big lounger. Every night, he slipped into sleep with her eyes and beautiful body foremost in his thoughts. He dreamed of touching her skin and always woke up hard and hungry. And not just since his accident.
Tires crunching on gravel pulled him out of his reverie. He ducked back into the shadows to watch the woman he still loved and their son arrive. As Jolie’s crossover SUV swung into the big circle, he ducked through the front door. Wouldn’t do to let her see his anxiety. He almost laughed out loud. Anxious? Hell, he was terrified he’d screw this up. And if he did? There’d be no second chance.
When the car rolled to a smooth stop before the wide front steps, he opened the door and strode forward, a mask of confidence plastered on his face. He’d worked his ass off for two weeks to lose the chair and the walker. He couldn’t go far, but by damn he could get to the porch and down the steps. Luckily, he hadn’t taken the first riser when CJ barreled into
him.
“Dad! Dad! Mom! Mom! Lookie. See!” The boy whirled toward his mom, his face alight with happiness. “Daddy’s walkin’!”
“I can see that.” Jolie quirked an eyebrow as if she didn’t believe her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s a little soon?”
“Nope. The therapist told me to go at my own speed.”
“Daddy, Daddy, Dad.” CJ tugged at his pants’ leg to get his attention. “Can we play ball now? Mom won’t play.”
That was Cord’s cue to quirk his brow. “Really? Huh.” He knew damn well Jolie had been an all-state softball player who threw harder than many of the guys in their high school.
Jolie rolled her eyes as she popped the rear hatch and dragged out a backpack, a little wheeled suitcase and a very large floppy dog. She carried everything to the top of the steps and handed the stuffed animal to CJ and the backpack to Cord. “I haven’t had time.”
“Do you have time now?”
Jolie narrowed her gaze. “To play ball?”
“No, to stay for dinner.”
She opened her mouth to decline but CJ jumped in to rescue him. “Please, Mommy?” He bobbed his head in an emphatic nod. “What’re we havin’? Is Miss Beth cookin’?”
“Nope, bubba. Me. I have the grill fired up for some burgers and hot dogs.” He adopted CJ’s winsome expression and turned it on Jolie. “Please? Miz Beth did make homemade ice cream, and if it gets any cooler, I thought maybe we could roast marshmallows and make s’mores. You used to love s’mores.” He was not above wheedling shamelessly.
“Please, Mommy. You fix my stuff just right. You can show Daddy. Right, Daddy?” CJ transferred his tugs from Cord’s jeans to his hand.
“Right, CJ.”
“Don’t you think for a minute I don’t know what you’re up to, Cordell Barron.”
CJ giggled, and both adults looked at him. “Are you in trouble?”
Laughing, Cord hefted the backpack up on his shoulder so he could ruffle the boy’s hair without letting go of his hand. “I’m pretty much always in trouble with your mom, bubba.” He glanced at Jolie but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “So how ’bout it, Mom? Will you stay for dinner?”
“I have to go.”
“So you have plans?” Cord worked to keep his poker face in place. “Stay for dinner, Jolie. Help CJ get settled in, ’kay?”
She narrowed her eyes, and he fully expected her to start shaking her “mother finger” at him. Miz Beth always did when she knew he’d been up to something nefarious.
“Please, Mommy? Pretty please with gummy worms and whipped cream on top?”
Laughing, Jolie put one hand on her hip in mock dismay. “You’re the one who likes gummy worms, CJ.”
“Yeah, your mom’s weakness is white chocolate.”
A flicker of surprise crossed her expression and Cord wondered why. He remembered everything about her.
“Nothing’s going to happen, Cord.” Yet he saw the moment she capitulated.
He did his best to look innocent before turning toward the front entrance. CJ trotted along, still holding his hand. When the two of them reached the massive wooden door, they both turned to check on Jolie. She still stood rooted to the spot where they’d left her.
“S’mores, Mom.” CJ had his best look of entreaty firmly in place.
Cord grinned and winked. “Yeah, Mom. S’mores. I even have white chocolate for yours.”
Jolie threw up her hands, grabbed the handle of the suitcase and dragged it along with her. She laughed when Cord and CJ high-fived and did her best to nip the warm feelings budding inside her. She’d wanted this her whole life—this teasing closeness that families had. Well, families other than her own. An only child, she’d envied her friends their siblings, including Cord with all his brothers and cousins. One big rowdy family. Like musketeers. She’d wanted to be a musketeer.
Leaving CJ’s paraphernalia tucked into an alcove in the entry hall, Cord ushered them through the house toward the back patio. Jolie dragged her feet, turning in the occasional circle to see everything. She’d never been inside. There were soaring ceilings with open beams, a stacked stone fireplace, oversize leather couches and chairs, thick rugs on the heart of pine floor. Native American and Western art adorned the walls.
They passed a formal dining room with a deer-antler chandelier and she got a peek at the gourmet kitchen before Cord opened the French doors leading to the flagstone patio. There was an outdoor kitchen nicer than most people had in their homes out there.
Cord played the perfect host. He’d thought of everything. Drinks—red fruit punch for CJ, sweet tea with a fresh slice of orange for her. A tray with fixings for their burgers. Chili and cheese.
And then there was the man himself, presiding over the grill while CJ played with one of the ranch dogs and she lounged near the fire pit crackling with piñon wood. How many times had she dreamed of just such a scenario back when she was young and dumb? More times than she wanted to admit.
A beautiful heated pool was built into the edge of the patio. Steam rose as the temperature continued to cool, and the lulling sound of a man-made waterfall murmured in the background. Beyond the pool, a beautifully landscaped yard stretched toward the working part of the ranch—barns, corrals and cottages where the ranch hands lived. It was a revelation, and she understood now why all the Barron brothers loved the place. The mansion in Nichols Hills had been their residence during the school year. The ranch was their home. Christmas. Birthdays. Summer vacations.
Jolie had attended parties at the Nichols Hills house. She’d never been invited to the ranch. Until now. She didn’t want to wonder why, didn’t want the insecurity, anger and hurt from that long-ago time to rear its ugly head. Tonight they could be friends. They could share her son... She sighed and rethought that. Their son. Being honest, she was terrified Cord would somehow steal CJ away, turn him against her the way Cyrus Barron had turned Cord. And she wasn’t ready to share CJ’s affection, even as she watched him run to Cord and throw his arms around his dad’s thighs and babble excitedly.
She didn’t want to see the honest emotion on Cord’s face as he listened patiently, as his hand rested on CJ’s head, fingers mussing hair the exact same color as his. She didn’t have to see their eyes to know they were two peas in a pod. Barron DNA didn’t fall far from the tree.
“Mom!”
She blinked from her reverie to realize that CJ had called her several times and now stood in front of her, hands on his hips. “What, baby?”
“I’m not a baby. Daddy says food’s ready. I need you to fix my hot dog, ’cept I wanna try some chili and some cheese and lots and lots of mustard.”
Jolie glanced at Cord. Chili was his condiment of choice. He ate it on his hamburgers. Hot dogs. Eggs. He’d probably put it on ice cream if the ice cream wouldn’t melt. She pushed off the lounger and walked over to the counter next to the built-in grill. With CJ telling her exactly how much of everything he wanted, she fixed his plate and installed him at the wrought iron table, cloth napkin firmly tied around his neck. When she returned to start putting together her own meal, Cord handed a plate to her. Hamburger with sliced Parmesan cheese, Romaine lettuce and Caesar dressing.
He remembered. How did he do that? And did he realize she hadn’t eaten a burger dressed this way since they’d broken up? Her throat closed and burned as she blinked back unwanted tears. This was the man she remembered—the sweet one who spoiled her. But she really needed to remember the bastard who’d ripped out her heart and then stomped on it, grinding it beneath the heels of his expensive Western boots.
“Mom!” CJ stood up in his chair, waving his arms at her. “C’mon, Mom. I’m hungry.”
“Go sit down, sunshine. I’ll refill your tea and be right there.”
With a warm hand on the small of her back, Cord urged her toward the
table. Did he know? Could he feel the blood rushing through her veins so fast it pounded in her ears? She hoped not. She needed every advantage to keep him at arm’s length.
Dinner was a blur, so much so she didn’t even fuss at CJ for blowing bubbles—egged on by Cord—through the straw in his fruit punch. He ate everything on his plate and asked for seconds. This time his father fixed his hot dog. Perfectly, just as he’d done with her burger. Ice cream followed, and then CJ headed out into the yard dotted with lights to play tag and fetch with the dog, a huge, shaggy beast of indiscriminate heritage.
“You realize he’s going to want a dog now, right?”
“What?” She glanced over as Cord settled onto the giant lounger next to her. His burned-honey eyes glowed warm and tempting in the incandescent shine from the landscape lights.
“He’s going to bug you for a dog.”
She chuckled. “And? He’s been doing that practically from the time he could talk. Why do you think I had to drag Ducky out here?”
Cord got that sexy amused expression that used to melt her panties. “Ah, would that be the shapeless lump of fake fur napping in the entry?”
“Yup.”
“Ducky?”
“He’s a big Marmaduke fan but couldn’t pronounce the name. He finally shortened it to Ducky.”
“A kid after my own heart.”
Jolie rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me you still watch cartoons...”
Cord laughed and every muscle in her body wanted to sing with joy as the sound washed over her. “I could be perfectly happy with only one channel on TV, so long as it was the Cartoon Network.”
She let out a snorting giggle—but then wondered what he wore to watch toons in. Did he still wear those fitted cotton boxers—the ones that cupped his butt and hugged his thighs the way she wanted to do? She licked her bottom lip before catching it between her teeth. When she glanced up, she almost recoiled from the look of stark hunger on Cord’s face.